He saw the telephone resting on the end table. He was staring at it, but for some reason, he had the strangest feeling that it was staring at him. That it was trying to get his attention. Beckoning to him.
What was Christina doing tonight? More than once she had suggested not too subtly that he would be welcome to join her on some engagement or another. Maybe he should call her and see what she was up to.
His hand hovered over the receiver. He had to strike the right tone, keep it casual. For starters, she had to have an escape clause. In case she was just being nice and really dreaded the thought of going somewhere with him. After all, she did see him all day, most days. She might not be that excited at the prospect of spending an evening with him as well. And he had to make it clear that this was just a fun thing, no pressure, not really like a date. I mean, it would be a date, he supposed, but not a date date. Not a, you know, big romantic deal or anything.
And the reason for that was…? He tried to think of a good answer. Because his romantic life was so booked up? No. Because he didn’t like Christina? No. So what was the problem? Well, it would certainly complicate life in the office. The two partners dating. Could make things very uncomfortable. And if it went bad, heaven forbid he should see Christina in the role of the woman scorned.
But why was he letting his brain wander down these paths? He wasn’t planning a marriage proposal, for pete’s sake. He was just talking about calling up a coworker and seeing if she wanted to go get a drink or something. It was a perfectly common office-worker-type thing to do. Utterly ordinary. They should’ve done it a long time ago.
He gripped the receiver and brought it to the side of his head. He started dialing her number…
And hung up. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. He wanted to, damn it. But he couldn’t.
He walked to the kitchen, poured himself a tall glass of chocolate milk, then sat down at the piano and started banging out whatever tune came to mind. It was a little late for this, he realized, but the nice thing about being the landlord was that there was no one to whom the other tenants could complain about you. He played some of his Janis Ian tunes, then a Harry number, then his favorites by Christine Lavin. He started “Old Fashioned Romance,” but for some reason, it was just making him sad.
He went to bed early, planning the next day’s interviews as he tucked himself in. If he was only going to do one thing in this ridiculous little life of his-work-then he’d damn well better do a good job of it.
This is so pathetic, he told himself as he eyes finally closed. Maybe I should get a dog.
A long impassioned mewling from the kitchen reopened his eyes.
Make that a male dog.
Chapter 20
Jones tucked in his chin. “You’re joking, right?”
“No,” Ben said, “I’m not joking.”
“You’re actually going to do this?”
“It’s not that big a deal, Jones. We’re just going to work out.”
Jones remained incredulous. “You mean-you’re actually going to sweat?”
Ben zipped up the jacket of a black-and-white warm-up suit, then applied himself to his Nikes. “And why is this a problem for you?”
“You’re a lawyer. Lawyers don’t sweat. They… talk.”
Ben continued lacing. “I’ve seen lots of lawyers sweat in my time.”
Jones retreated from the doorway. “Hey, take a look at this!” he shouted down the corridor. “Ben’s going to work out!”
A moment later, Christina appeared. “As in… exercise? Physical exertion?”
Ben grabbed his gym bag. “And why is that so unbelievable?”
Jones and Christina looked at each other. “You’re not exactly renowned for your physical prowess.”
“Remember the time he tried to move the copier?” Jones said, giggling.
“You should hear Mike talk about Ben’s first kung fu lesson,” Christina replied with equal mirth.
“You know,” Ben said, passing them both, “you two are starting to annoy me.”
“I’m sorry,” Christina said. She looked at Jones. “This is really rude of us.” And then they both burst out laughing.
“I should cancel their bonuses,” Ben muttered as he left the office. If they ever got bonuses.
“I can’t believe this,” Baxter said, shifting from one edge of the passenger seat to the other. “Sheila Knight never did anything wrong in her life. Except maybe talk to you.”
“Nonetheless,” Mike insisted, hands on the steering wheel, “she’s lying. Or at the very least, holding something back.”
“She told you everything you wanted to know.”
“Or seemed to. Trust me on this, Baxter. She’s lying.”
“And you know this because…”
“I just know.”
“Of course. So why don’t you drag her downtown and give her a lie-detector test?”
“Because there would be no point.” Tulsa traffic was not normally an issue, but there were a few exceptions, and Seventy-first on Friday afternoon was one of them. Even after the street had been widened to the size of something you’d expect to see in Dallas, it still clogged, worse and worse the closer you got to the on-ramp for Highway 169. Maybe it was employees fleeing en masse from the chain stores and restaurants that seemed to have sprung up overnight on this boulevard. “She’s not a suspect. I don’t know that she’s a material witness. I can’t force her.”
“She might comply anyway.”
“She might. But the test wouldn’t be admissible in court. And frankly, I think polygraphs are unreliable and easily manipulated.”
“Easily manipulated?” Baxter waved a hand across her brow. “Is this the sphincter dodge?”
“That works, actually.” It was well-known in police circles that tightening the sphincter muscle during the control questions could send the polygraph a false signal, thus disguising subsequent lies. There were several ways, actually. Putting a tack in your shoe and stepping on it at the right time. Anything that elevated the subject’s blood pressure could throw off the machine. “But it isn’t the easiest way.”
“And what is the easiest way, O Great and Powerful Superior Officer?”
“Just lie on the control questions. The test administrator asks control questions, then pertinent questions, then compares the two and looks for a change in the readout. If you lie on the control questions, though, then lie on the rest, there will never be any observable change.”